Four Weddings and a Dragon - Charlie Weasley

Chapter 15

The drawing room was utterly dark except for the white wand light Draco held to his face. It might have been laughable, like a Muggle boy telling horror stories around a campfire. Only this wasn't a jolly campfire, it was the room where the greatest horror story of Hermione's life had unfolded on the night she was tortured here by Bellatrix Lestrange.

Typically, Draco looked much more like his father's side of the family. That was the haughty but handsome face Hermione knew as the first one she had ever kissed. This new face of his, glowing in the dark drawing room was one she didn't know. In the shadowy half-light of his wand, he looked just enough like his Aunt Bellatrix to make all the blood rush out of Hermione's head, pricking in the ends of her fingers. She took a step as she staggered away from him in the dark, her foot landing with a sound of crushed, cracking glass.

At the sound she felt something dart past her, silently. Charlie was no longer holding her hand and she reached out to find him. A finer, colder hand took hers, and as it did, Draco's white light went out. There was a thud and more cracking of glass and something like old dry wood. Malfoy's voice let out a grunt of pain, but with an odd edge to it, almost like laughter. It was cut short just as it started to sound triumphant, lost in the sound of knees and elbows, and maybe someone's head tumbling against the floorboards.

Over the sound of panting, Charlie was speaking through gritted teeth, a stream of quiet obscenities, and then, "You light this room back up. Right now, Malfoy, or stars help me..."

"He's got Draco down," Astoria was saying, her voice astonished and somewhere close to Hermione. It must have been her hand Hermione was clutching in the dark. "How can Charlie have taken Draco down? No one but Malfoys can use magic in here."

Hermione shouted a laugh. "Charlie doesn't need magic to subdue a Malfoy."

"Now!" Charlie hollered in the still-dark room, the word reverberating off the walls.

Draco finally spoke, his voice strained as if his chest was compressed. " 'Toria, the lights. Quick."

Warm yellow light flared in the sconces on either side of the fireplace. The room revealed itself - the mantlepiece, the draperies, the armchairs, all exactly as they were years ago. In the room's centre, Draco lay face down on a dusty floor strewn with jagged bits of crystal, splintered wood, bent metal, and broken plaster. Charlie was crouched on the top of him, his knee in Draco's back, his hands holding each of Draco's arms flat to the floor.

At the light, Draco managed to turn his head to look at Astoria. "You see, darling. I told you bringing them in here would make us all closer together."

Hermione had let go of Astoria, her fingers now pressed into her own temples. "What are we doing here, Malfoy? What do you want? Why can't you just explain yourself without the stupid dramatics?"

"You try explaining yourself with your face mashed against the floor and your ribs about to break," Draco said, his breath getting shorter. "Come on, Weasley. You can see we're all safe as houses. Let me up."

Charlie looked away from him, to Astoria who looked like she was about to burst into tears, and then to Hermione, who only rolled her eyes. "Fine. Let him up, Charlie."

Charlie stood, ignoring the hand Draco raised when he turned over, an invitation to help him stand up. His back turned to Draco, Charlie was taking Hermione by both hands. "You alright, love? You're awfully pale. Are you faint again?"

"Sorry, Granger," Draco called over her answer, standing and rubbing his jaw as if it had been knocked out of joint. "Yes, I should have been more forthcoming, but in the past, earnest conversations between you and I have tended to - overwhelm us."